


The Hanging Tree

by That_One_Yaoi_Kid



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hunger Games/TWD mashup??, Lydia x Enid, Multi, Ron is alive, The Fallen Tribute, The Hanging Tree, enjoy??, idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Yaoi_Kid/pseuds/That_One_Yaoi_Kid
Summary: Emotionally drained from Negan’s reign and the child’s play of the Kingdom, Rick and the group elect to stay the night outside of any walls. And Carl finds that a familiar tune describes their situation unbelievably well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ronald McDonald is still alive. Listen to the song "The Hanging Tree" for reference! Hope you enjoy! Sorry for the angst btw...

Carl sighs, settling against the soggy bark of an old white oak tree. Ron did the same, but elected to rest his temple on his boyfriend’s shoulder, fingers curled around Carl’s sleeve. The boy’s little sister straddled his hip with her face hidden in the crook of his neck.

 

Carl looked around the makeshift circle of survivors. Saying that Maggie, Enid, and Sasha needed a break from Hilltop would be a huge understatement. But to be fair, it wasn’t just them. It was everyone. They all needed a night of recess from the stress of Negan’s power, and this was that night. Also, the ridiculousness of the Kingdom exhausted them, trying so desperately not to fall into their little game of pretend. After all, this is the apocalypse, people are killing people and the dead have risen to eat the remaining people. And these grown ass men are returning back to their unfulfilled childhoods?

 

The pressure of how and if they were going to take down the Saviors was beginning to crush them, so this was their somewhat vacation. They travelled a good nine to ten miles that day and they were more than happy with the distance. 

They would spend the night in the woods, and start heading back the next day around noon. And with this, even though they all collectively stressed on the same thing, each survivor stressed about several different things.

 

Rosita, for example, was mourning the death of Spencer, and was just getting over Abraham. And, her excessive worrying of Eugene’s safety was slowly devouring her. A majority of them worried about Gabriel and Carol along with Eugene, but some worried more than others. 

 

Carl scanned around the group’s faces. Sasha, Maggie, and Lydia stared emotionless at the fire Daryl lazily made. Aaron and Eric held a hushed, blunt conversation while the latter brushed through Aaron’s greasy, brown locks. Michonne mindlessly traced her sword as she nearly glared into the darkness. Rick kept his gaze on Daryl, who carelessly stabbed the ground with a pocket knife. Rosita had her head in Tara’s lap, who gently and mindlessly traced circles in her scalp. Morgan slipped in-and-out of consciousness, along with Enid who was wrapped in Lydia’s arms.

 

Carl lovingly and gently held Judith’s head in his hand as he stared at the walker adjacent from the boy. The walker appeared to once be a middle-aged man, portly, and short. He hung from a thick oak branch by a chain around his neck, and his head was tilted as if the chain had broken his neck, causing his death.

 

The sight quickly reminded Aaron of the librarian man who was hung by the Saviors on a bridge. But no one moved to kill him. They either stared at him in disgust or hatred, or creepily found home in the gurgles and groans escaping him.

 

Carl’s eye flickered with tears as he could hear a soft lullaby his mother once sang to him. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but he wanted to sing along with the ghost of his deceased mother’s voice echoing in his mind.

 

He opened his mouth hesitantly, still afraid of judgement. Negan’s words joining his mother’s soft hum. Carl shook his head, looking down at Judith. 

 

_ “Are you, are you, _

_ Coming to the tree?” _

 

His voice was soft, gentle and loving. He bounced his sister lightly, the others just barely noticing the muttered lyrics. Figured it was just apart of someone’s conversation.

 

_ “They strung up a man, _

_ They say who murdered three,” _

 

His voice was light, weak if you will as he looked up at the groaning and struggling corpse. This time, only a few survivors looked up in curiosity, eyes quickly settling on the teen.

 

_ “Strange things did happen here, _

_ No stranger would it be, _

_ If we met at midnight _

_ In the hanging tree,” _

 

His voice only made Ron’s grip on his boyfriend’s sleeve tighten, and Lydia pulled Enid closer, mouthing the words into her hair. Now everyone’s gaze were on Carl, who didn’t acknowledge them. Rick had an eyebrow raised, along with Morgan and Daryl, but said nothing to stop the boy.

“ _ Are you, are you _

_ Coming to the tree?” _

 

Maggie quickly recognized the song, but had to bite her tongue to refrain from singing along. Michonne smiled slightly, looking over at the teen with eyes filled of adoration. By now, Rosita had risen from Tara’s lap to stare at the boy, emotionless.

 

_ “Where dead man called out,” _

_ For his love to flee,” _

 

With those words, Carl’s gaze never left Maggie, Rosita, and Sasha, who were mostly affected by Negan’s power. Affected by Lucille. Affected by the Saviors. But the women quickly avoided the look of what they suspected was pity. But it was the five stages of grief in one that Carl was expressing. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance all thrown into one look. 

 

“ _ Strange things did happen here, _

_ No stranger would it be, _

_ If we met at midnight, _

_ In the hanging tree,” _

 

Carl reluctantly moved his gaze to Morgan who ran his fingers along his staff, memories of his deceased son flooding back to him like a frieght train.

 

“ _ Are you, are you, _

_ Coming to the tree?” _

 

Carl slowed his words, glancing between his father and Morgan, feeling the tension rise quickly. But the lyrics soon put that down like a veterinarian does a sick pup. Quick and painless.

“ _ Where I told you to run, _

_ So we'd both be free,” _

 

Carl now had his eyes fixated on Daryl, who only stared back. They both shared a similarity with those words. They both saw the Sanctuary, both witnessed how Negan keeps his power, with fear. They both knew how fucked up the Saviors were, how they worked, where they worked, and how truly ruthless they were.

 

“ _ Strange things did happen here, _

_ No stranger would it be, _

_ If we met at midnight, _

_ In the hanging tree,” _

 

Carl’s voice quickly faltered as he switched his gaze to Aaron and Eric, then back to Daryl, then over to Enid, Lydia, and Ron, who collectively returned his gaze. Bravery and love flashing in their eyes like the flames of the campfire. 

 

“ _ Are you, are you, _

_ Coming to the tree?” _

 

Carl kept his eyes locked on Ron’s, and Lydia’s occasionally. Lydia never knew her father, and she lost her mother to Negan. Ron lost his whole family, maybe not to Negan. But he knew the pain. Knew the pain of seeing them die before you. While you just stood, or sat there, helplessly and worthlessly as the life slipped from their eyes. 

 

_ “Wear a necklace of hope, _

_ Side by side with me,” _

 

Rosita couldn’t help but look back up at Carl. The words bouncing off the sides of her mind rapidly as she thought back to what could happen to Eugene, of what happened to Spencer and Abraham. To Olivia. To Glenn. To Daryl. To Carl. To Aaron. And she cringed at the thought of losing another person. Then, and only then would the dam break, and weakness would drown her. Pull her back to hopelessness.

 

_ “Strange things did happen here, _

_ No stranger would it be, _

_ If we met at midnight, _

_ In the hanging tree,” _

 

Carl slowly climbed to his feet, passing Judith off to Michonne gently, catching her eyes as she whispered the lyrics with him. He nodded to his father, who nodded back. Carl slowly approached the hanging walker.

 

By now, the group of survivors had created a chorus of both deep, monotone, and squeaky voices that repeated Carl’s lyrics. Carl kept his lips sealed, pulling his knife out slowly from its sheath. 

 

Once the final chorus of the song was said, a deafening silence fell over them. They all watched intently, eyes filled with various emotions as Carl raised the knife. 

 

He cut off one leg, for Hershel, in a clean swipe, blood splattering his face. 

 

He cut off the other, for Bob, in a second clean swipe.

 

He sunk the knife into the walker’s abdomen, splitting it open, only for its guts to spill onto the forest floor, for Spencer.

 

He swung the knife once, the blade cutting off the walker’s lower jaw so he could untie the chain from its broken neck. The walker fell to the ground.

 

Carl straddled the walker’s back, one knee sinking into his rotting shoulder blade and the other beside it’s head. 

 

He stabbed it once, for Shane.

 

He stabbed it twice, for Lori.

 

He stabbed it three times, for Tyreese.

 

He stabbed it four times, for Jessie and Sam.

 

He stabbed it five times, for Abraham.

 

He stabbed it six times, for Glenn.

 

Carl gave the walker’s head one final blow, the gurgling and groans halting dramatically. His breathing was uneven as he stood up slowly. 

 

“What was the last stab for?” Rick asked shakily, staring at his bloodied son.

 

Carl met his gaze, a stern, cold look was the thing that sent the survivors into an ultimate silence. 

 

**“For us. For the survivors. And for the fallen. For the hanging tree.”**


End file.
